


Rosy Red

by Setaeru



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Belts, Bottom Dean, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Professor Castiel, Spanking, Student Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setaeru/pseuds/Setaeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Anything?" Novak repeated the last word as a question, still sounding completely blank. "So if I had you bend over this desk and spanked you with a belt, that would be acceptable?" Dean swallowed dryly, mulling the idea over. It seemed reasonable. He deserved it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yeah," he said, breathing deeply through his nose, dropping his hands and standing, opening his eyes with a blurry blink. He reached for his belt, removing it completely and setting it on the table before unbuttoning his jeans and bending over the relatively empty desk and pushing both his boxers and jeans to the middle of his thighs.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need help. I really do.
> 
> There are - probably a fuckton /of/ - mistakes but please don't kill me for them~ :)

Dean sighed and gathered his things, shoving his notebook and pen into his bag along with the book they were being forced to read and write an essay on. He straightened his posture, looking around at the nearly empty class. Fuck. He quickly moved towards the steps and headed for the door, thankful it was his last class today and he didn't have a shift to catch; he wanted to go home and sleep - it was Friday after all. He definitely did not want to be caught by Professor Novak, he was screwed if he did. The guy was strict as all hell and Dean slacked off more than a slacker, if that was even possible. 

"Dean," fuck his ass. "May I please speak with you?" Now although it was phrased as a question, it was most definitely not one. It was more like 'Dean, get your ass over here and listen to me lecture your stupid fucking brain and tell you how much you're failing' or something.

"Yes, professor Novak?" Dean turned around, slowly walking over to Novak's desk as he spoke as politely as he could. The last student glanced at them then frowned and shut the door behind themselves, probably expecting it was going to be a private conversation about something concerning Dean. The whole thing just made it worse.

Novak didn't look at him for several moments, shuffling papers into his leather briefcase along with his laptop and a notebook and the book they were currently studying. When he did look up, it was with a sharp and almost harsh gaze; Dean flinched and looked away. "Please follow me," Novak said blankly, stepping back from the desk and heading for the door. Dammit. Dean hurried after his long strides, falling into step just half a foot behind and to the side of him.

Novak walked across the Lit department to his office, a fairly big room filled with bookcases and overflowing with books. Even though there were books and notebooks and pages everywhere, it was still pretty neat.

"Sit." Novak dropped his briefcase onto his desk and sat down in an office chair behind the desk. He pulled out his laptop as Dean took the lone, and kind of - really - uncomfortable, chair in front of his desk. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Yeah..." Novak narrowed his eyes at the informal version of 'yes' but didn't say anything. He opened his laptop and typed on it before returning his gaze to Dean, raising a brow.

"And? Why are you here?"

"Uh," Dean briefly clenched his jaw, trying not to roll his eyes. "Because of my grades and shit."

"Please do not use profanity around me, Dean," Novak said immediately, his cool blue eyes sharping with something dark. "Your attendance is as atrocious as your grades. I've kept you in my class because I thought that maybe you'd buck up and stop this game of yours but it seems not. Now I would like you to write me a paper explaining why I should keep you in my class. Right here, right now."

Novak opened a drawer to his right and pulled out a yellow pad of paper and a pen, placing them on the table in front of Dean. He leaned back and crossed his arms in his lap, a patient expression appearing. Dean blinked, staring down at the notepad and pen and wondering if this whole thing was some kind of weird joke.

"Pick it up and start writing," Novak drawled. "You have ten minutes to complete it or you'll be removed from  _all_ your classes, and by extension, the university." Dean gulped, gaze flickering between him and the paper.

He grabbed the notepad and pen and bit his lip, unsure what to write - or how to even start writing something. Novak looked at his laptop, ignoring him and typing with little clicks. Dean glared at him, glancing at the clock on the wall to his right and grimacing when he noticed a minute had already passed. 

Think, think, think.

Dammit, Dean! Use your fucking brain for once! He closed his eyes and bounced his leg, trying to conjure up a way to start this bullshit and write it in the assigned amount of time. Did he just write the truth? How his mother was currently going through chemotherapy and his father was turning towards the bottle and missing shifts at the garage? How he was being forced to skip classes and pick up the slack? And only able to because his uncle was the owner? Jesus fuck.

Okay, truthfully, he wasn't forced to skip classes, Bobby would kill him if he knew. He was just so tired from work that he didn't feel like attending his classes. And then it became a habit and Bobby knew what times he was usually 'available' and he had no idea what to do. Fucking hell.

Tick, tick, tick.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock, cursing inwardly when he noticed two more minutes had passed. Dean quickly began writing, trying to start with the first time he remembered missing classes and planning on ending with the class he just attended.

The time was up when he got - barely - three-quarters of the way done writing, Novak saying it loud and clear and breaking through his little writing daze. He panicked, staring at Novak desperately with wide eyes. "Give me it," Novak held his hand out, raising his brow again. Motherfucker. Dean reluctantly handed it over, playing with the pen in his hands as Novak looked it over with a blank face.

Novak tossed it onto the desk carelessly and looked at him with an assessing gaze. "So you couldn't come to your classes because you were too busy visiting your mother in the hospital, picking up after your father, taking care of your little brother and working odd shifts at a garage owned by your uncle? Does that sum this up?"

Dean licked his lips and resisted the urge to shove the pen into his mouth and bite the end, nodding instead. Novak sighed, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes, pressing his eyelids for a moment. He pulled his hand away and slipped his glasses back on, giving Dean a tired and oddly neutral stare. "What does she have?"

Out of all the things Novak could have said, Dean definitely did not see that question coming. "Er, l-lung cancer, stage three," Dean muttered, twirling the pen around, looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry," Novak said, sounding surprisingly genuine. Dean shrugged, lifting his head and flashing Novak a smile, ignoring the suspicious tilt of Novak's head.

"Thanks but it's whatever," Dean cleared his throat, trying to brush the whole thing off and oddly not succeeding. 

Novak pulled a thick file of papers from the same drawer he'd taken the notebook and placed them on the desk in front of Dean. "This is all you've missed. Read it, do it, hand it in within two weeks." He turned to his laptop then flashed his gaze back to Dean. "Oh, and Dean? If you don't start attending your classes regularly within the next two weeks, we'll be right back here with quite the problem to deal with. Now go, I have things to do."

Dean clenched his jaw but obediently stood and grabbed the folder, shoving it into his messenger bag and heading out the door a little dejectedly. He was so, so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All kudos, comments and bookmarks are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, uh, very short. I mean, it's their first time - gimme a break! Enjoy though ;)

Dean sat with his elbows on his knees and his head basically in his hands, fingers pressing against his closed eyes. It was about two weeks later, Monday, and he was sitting in Novak's office, trying to brush off the disappointed stare and frown that was really killing him inside. He hated when he disappointed people. It cut deep into him, practically ripped him to shreds inside.

To make it worse, Novak wasn't saying a word. And they were both just sitting here in silence, listening to the quiet tick of the clock on the wall to the right and the soft shuffle of a few people walking outside the office. Eventually, Dean heard a sigh and Novak's heavy gaze left him, but he didn't move a muscle, trying to imagine himself somewhere else and ignore the inevitable lecture he was going to get.

He had been lucky last time, he knew, but this time... something was going to happen and that something would most likely rip him a new one. When Novak spoke, it was with a quiet drawl, so monotone that it wasn't even cold. "What should I do with you, Dean?"

"Punish me," he muttered in reply, moving his fingers from his eyes and placing his palms there instead. He felt like if he opened his eyes, he'd feel them burn, or worse, the tears would actually come up and Novak would see them.

"And how should I punish you?"

"I don't know," he whispered, digging his nails into his hairline. "I don't know." Dean felt his body shake, his bones quiver, but desperately tried to stop it. He pressed his lips together in a thin line in an attempt to stop them, and everything else, from trembling, it worked - mostly. "Just... do anything."

"Anything?" Novak repeated the last word as a question, still sounding completely blank. "So if I had you bend over this desk and spanked you with a belt, that would be acceptable?" Dean swallowed dryly, mulling the idea over. It seemed reasonable. He deserved it.

"Yeah," he said, breathing deeply through his nose, dropping his hands and standing, opening his eyes with a blurry blink. He reached for his belt, removing it completely and setting it on the table before unbuttoning his jeans and bending over the relatively empty desk and pushing both his boxers and jeans to the middle of his thighs.

Dean's head was close to Novak's chest, who hadn't moved or made a sound the whole time. He didn't know how long he bent over that desk, but if the ticks from the clock were anything to go by, it was at least around one-hundred and twenty seconds, two minutes. Novak's chair rolled backwards and he stood, stepping around the table and walking behind Dean.

He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip and trying to prepare himself for something, anything. He heard the belt being picked up and bit his lip harder, trying to breathe evenly. Dean grunted and his hands shot up to grab onto the edge of the desk by his shoulders when a sharp thwack! sounded in the air and shocking pain erupted from the middle of his ass. It was followed by another thwack! and even more pain, and it just kept happening over and over until finally, after what felt like twenty awfully hard hits, the belt was dropped onto the desk and Novak stepped away.

The man returned to his seat, plopping down in it with a sigh. Dean shook on the desk, eyes squeezed shut as he desperately willed the tears away. His ass burned with pain and he desperately wanted to be burned alive just then because holy shit, he just let his  _professor spank his ass with a belt._

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice rough and raw.

"Get out," Novak said quietly, breaking through Dean's thoughts and the sound of his harsh breathing. Dean pushed himself up, letting his head hang as he pulled his underwear and jeans up, buttoning them up. He clenched his jaw against the sting it brought and slipped his belt through the pant loops, buckling it. He bent over slowly and grabbed his messenger bag, lifting it over his head and letting it drop onto his shoulder as he turned to walk out the door.

Dean didn't say anything, Novak didn't say anything, and he opened the door and walked out. Ready to just go home and curl up in his bed and cry until he couldn't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All comments and bookmarks are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also short but I swear the next one will be longer! Enjoy~  
>  **Warning for mention of blood.**

Spanking seemed to work in the end, because Dean managed to show up for all his classes for the rest of that week - even if it was torture sitting through them with an aching ass. But then the following week everything started to crash again and he missed classes by either sleeping or picking up an extra shift at the garage just so he didn't have to attend school.

Novak brought him into his office on the last day of the second week and they once more sat in silence across from each other. "I was almost hopeful for a while there," Novak intoned, and Dean flinched. He was disappointed, he knew, and it once more broke a part of him internally. "Spanking you didn't work. What now, Dean?"

"Do it again," he muttered, bouncing his leg nervously. Novak didn't reply to that, choosing a silent response over a verbal one. Dean stood and started unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops and placing it on the desk.

"Lock the door, Dean," Novak said, his chair making little noise as he rolled it backwards. Dean swallowed and dropped his hands to his sides, walking over to the door and clicking the lock on it. He returned to the front of the desk and unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper before pushing them down to his ankles. "Come here."

Dean frowned but obediently waddled around the desk and stood beside Novak, unsure as to what he wanted then. Novak pulled him over his lap, adjusting him so his head was inches from the cement floor and his booted feet didn't touch it either. Dean licked his lips and shifted his body, tentatively placing his hands on Novak's thigh, trying to support his body.

Novak's hands were placed on his lower back and ass, keeping him still and steady. The hand on his ass lifted up and away from him, only to return in the form of a sharp smack. Dean moaned, his cock rubbing against the fabric of his boxers and Novak's leg. Novak didn't acknowledge the noise, or it didn't seem like he did, and he slapped Dean again and again.

Each slap hurt more and more and his ass felt like it was on fire. He couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his face, couldn't even quiet the soft noises that escaped his lips, nor could he stop the shakes that rocked his body when the spanks didn't. Dean clutched at Novak's leg, his toes curling. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, feeling relief when Novak stopped.

"Get up," Novak sat back, letting go of him completely. Dean slowly slipped off his lap, legs unsteady and body trembling. "Bend over the desk." He obeyed, shifting and grasping the edge of the desk beside his shoulders. Novak stood and his fingers hooked onto the edge of Dean's boxers, pulling them down to his ankles.

He grasped the belt in hand and there was a snap as he - most likely - made the two ends hit each other in the middle. Dean gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the immense pain he knew was coming. Novak didn't say or do anything for several moments, but when he did, Jesus fuck, Dean had never wanted to bury himself under a rock more than he did at that moment.

Novak snapped the belt across his ass, forcing a sharp cry from Dean's throat and making him tense up further. Agony didn't even begin to describe the pain pulsing from his ass. Another slap followed the previous, followed by another and another and another.

Dean sobbed openly, shaking like a leaf on the desk as Novak tore at his ass. Dean felt something warm and thick trickle down his legs and prayed to God that it wasn't urine or worse... feces. He suppressed a shudder. It was then that Novak stopped and dropped the belt onto the desk, stepping back and plopping down in his chair. They were both silent, well as silent as they could be with their harsh breathing and Dean's quiet sniffles and choked sobs.

"Get up, Dean," Novak said once he caught his breath, his chair rolling across the floor. "And get out." Dean pushed himself up off the desk with trembling arms, stepping back and bending over slowly to pull up his boxers and jeans. Dean brushed his hand over his ass with a wince then brought it in front of his face. Definitely not urine or feces. But definitely blood. He swallowed and wiped his hand on his boxers before he pulled them and his pants up the rest of the way, and he barely bit back a whine when the rough fabric pressed and rubbed over his ass, eyes burning with tears. He threaded his belt through the loops, buckling it in the front.

Dean walked around the desk slowly, gingerly, and picked up his bag, clutching it to his chest as he wiped away the tears and snot on his face. He sniffed and glanced at Novak, who stared right back an odd look in his eyes and lips pressed thin. "I'm sorry," he muttered softly, almost shyly, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I'll do better." Novak didn't reply him, so he turned and carefully made his way to the door, unlocking it and opening it. Dean walked out the door and didn't return.

Until three weeks later, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All comments and bookmarks are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda short... sorry.
> 
> Enjoy~ :P

Three weeks later, Friday, Dean sat uncomfortably on the chair before Novak's desk, playing with his fingers and refusing to look up at the man. "I'm getting tired of this game, Dean," Novak said, removing his glasses and tossing them onto the desk. He sat forward, elbows on the table. "I've spanked you twice, both times you've apologized and the last time you said you'd do better. Dean, look at me."

He swallowed dryly and hesitantly lifted his gaze, looking at Novak's nose so he didn't have to look him in the eye, he hoped he didn't notice the difference. "In the eye, Dean." So much for that. Dean turned his gaze to Novak's eyes, chewing his inner cheek at the disappointed and tired look in them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, voice thick and small. Novak breathed deeply for a moment, sitting back in his chair.

"We already established that you're able to attend classes. You proved it to me. So why haven't you shown up and why haven't you handed in any work within the last few weeks?" Novak looked one-hundred percent done with Dean's bullshit. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in an iron grip and Dean didn't have to look down to know his hands were shaking.

He desperately hoped Novak wouldn't kick him from the classes he taught. Or worse, his other classes. He didn't really know if he could do that but he wasn't going to find out. If he could help it. "I don't know," Dean answered in the same voice as earlier. Novak pursed his lips, turning his gaze away, looking at the shelves of books.

"Do you need help? Do you not understand it? Is there something I can do to make you show up and hand in the work?" Novak flashed his eyes back to Dean, blue gaze completely void of emotion. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the wood. "I understand you're going through harsh times right now. I do, Dean. But this is just unacceptable."

"I'm sorry..."

"I know you are; I know you're sorry. Can you tell me what is keeping you from attending class? I know you're working to help pay bills, and your father isn't exactly the best person at the moment; your mother is sick and currently hospitalized and your brother is a teenager that doesn't care about the real world. I know you can do better than this. You're a very intelligent man, Dean. The work you handed in to me in the beginning of the year is but a fragment of that intelligence - and your potential is one of the reasons I've helped keep you in your classes."

Novak clenched his jaw briefly. "Don't waste my effort, and don't ignore my help." Novak breathed deeply again. "Tell me what you need, and I will see if I can give you it, or help you obtain it." Novak stared at him with an earnest gaze, his blue eyes seeming to penetrate right through Dean.

Dean looked down at his hands, grabbing the hem of his shirt in his hands. "I-I don't know," he cleared his throat, trying to change his tone of voice. His eyes stung, and his nose stung too. "I just-... The spanking... it works."

"No, it doesn't," Novak sighed. "Well, it works for a week or so then after that you just go back to your old habits."

"Then... do it... weekly?" Dean refused to look at the other man, finding his ratty jeans much more interesting than his professor.

"You want me to spank you every week?" He nodded slowly. "And you think that will work?" He nodded just as slowly again. "... Okay. But on one condition." He didn't continue so Dean glanced up, immediately regretting it when he saw Novak's penetrating gaze.

"Yeah?"

"You meet with me after each of our classes and complete your work under my supervision, and if needed, I will help you with your other class work. The spanking may work to bring you to class, but it doesn't work when it comes to your assigned work." Novak sat straighter, tilting his head. "I will spank you ever Friday after class and before you begin your work... or after; that's something for you to decide."

"Okay." Dean blinked down at his feet, shifting them around. "Today is... Friday..." Was he hoping for a spanking? Yes. Did he want a spanking? Yes. Did he need a spanking? Yes.

"Stand up and remove your pants," Novak said, standing as well. He shrugged off his blazer, tossing it onto his chair and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Dean froze, heart picking up and ramming in his chest. Novak raised a brow and walked around the desk, perching himself on the edge. "If you would like, you may stand in the corner when I'm done." He still couldn't move. Fuck! "Okay then. You may get up whenever you like, but for each second you wait, it equals an extra slap _and_ minute in the corner." His mouth was open, he knew. Novak tilted his head, a small smirk stretching his chapped lips.

Dean managed to gather his wits after a second and scrambled to his feet, hands grabbing at his belt and pulling it off. He hesitated, holding it in his hands and glancing at Novak's intertwined ones. The man held his hand out and Dean slowly placed it in them. Then he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to his knees, letting them fall the rest of the way and pool around his ankles. He hesitated with his boxers, unwilling to let Novak outright see his dick.

"It's not like it's anything new, Dean," Novak snorted. "I have one too." He did not fucking pout. He didn't. Dean shoved his boxers down, glaring at the professor. Novak's lips quirked up further, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Turn around and place your hands on the seat of the chair." Dean spun around, wincing when his cock slapped against his thigh with a weird little sound. He spread his legs a little and bent over, hands gripping the sides of the chair seat. "I was going to spank you twenty times, but considering you hesitated, it'll now be forty. Twenty of those hits will be with the belt." He hadn't waited twenty seconds! Had he..? "After that you'll stand in the corner for twenty minutes."

Dean swallowed a whine and gripped the chair tighter as Novak curled a hand over his left hip, bracing both Dean and himself. Dean glanced down between his legs, eyeing Novak's slacks and dress shoes. Fucker was fancy. Novak knelt behind him slowly and his free hand grabbed Dean's right boot, pulling it off when Dean lifted his leg. What the hell was he doing with that? Novak stood again and the underside of the boot brushed against his ass. Shit.

The rough underside of his shoe pulled away from his ass, returning in the form of a sharp smack to his left cheek. Dean grunted, shocked that his boot hurt that much. It wasn't supposed to. Maybe... ish. He made another sound as a second hit come down on the same spot. Fuck, the hits came fast and hard but Dean managed to mentally count twenty and not cry himself. It wasn't as bad as Novak's hand, or the belt. He shuddered just thinking about both of them.

Novak dropped his boot to the floor with a thud, the shoe landing beside Dean's nearly bare foot. Dean heard him pick up the belt and tensed, trying to brace himself for the hits. If anything, it made them worse, so he forced his body to relax and just took it. The leather hit him hard and fast and hurt so bad that tears sprung to Dean's eyes on the first hit. By the twentieth he was shaking and crying openly, unable to control himself.

Novak set the belt on the table and made Dean stand up straight, gently pushing him towards the only empty corner in the room and making him face the wall. And then he left, returning to his chair by the sounds of it and playing with a buckle, probably his briefcase. Dean sobbed softly, wrapping his arms around his body and dropping his chin to his chest. Fuck. He sniffed and tried to control his trembling but it wasn't working, so he ignored it and let it happen. Dean hiccuped softly, making tiny little sniffing noises and whimpers. He wanted to rub the pain from his ass but he felt like it would hurt more. Anything hurt on his ass. He knew this from experience now.

Dean tensed when he felt a weird warmth from behind him and glanced over his shoulder, blinking his blurry and tired eyes. Novak stood behind him, hesitant. "It's been twenty minutes, Dean," he said, reaching out a hand to turn Dean around.

"Don't-" he said quickly, watching Novak freeze. "Don't touch me." Novak's face blanked and he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side.

"I'm not sorry."

"I know. I am. I'm sorry," Dean muttered, turning to the side slightly and bending over, lifting his boxers and pants up and over his sore ass with a barely swallowed groan of pain. Novak cleared his throat and stepped back again, turning and returning to his chair, sitting down in it. He slowly walked over, standing next to his previously occupied chair. He slipped his foot into his boot and wiggled his foot around, making the boot shift into a better position on his foot. He picked up his belt and slid it on, trying to be slow so he could stall sitting in the chair.

Novak watched him quietly, gaze moving over Dean's hands as it buckled the belt in place. "Sit and take your books out. Open your notes to the last thing you took down and we'll start from there," Novak said softly, the same weird gaze from before appearing. Dean dragged the chair a little closer, sitting down slowly and wincing. Fucking hell. He lifted his ass off the chair, leaning on his thighs. He tried not to make it obvious but Novak had a tiny smile on his face so he didn't think he was doing a good job of being discreet. He hoped he didn't have to sit here for more than an hour... No, please just not more than ten minutes. Fucking... ugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All comments are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters left - most likely. :D  
> Enjoy~ <3
> 
> Forgive me for any mistakes.

He had been good for the last five weeks, taken all his Friday spankings and even done all his work for his classes. He'd caught up with the new lessons being taught in class and he even started getting extra work. But, no, _oh no_ , just because he had missed one class,  _one fucking class_ , to bring a sick Sammy home, he was being punished on Wednesday. Wednesday! He was going to be so tender on Friday that it wasn't funny. Fucking seriously, it wasn't even his fault-

_Slap!_

"Fuck!" Dean cried, shifting uncomfortably over Novak's knees. "Please! Come on, I was goo-AH!"

_Slap!_

"No, Dean, you were naughty," Novak tsked. "You missed class, something I would have forgiven because of the reason you provided, but you sassed me and acted like a child. Now count or I'll increase the number of spanks you get."

"Seven," Dean growled, glaring at the floor angrily. So not fair, so totally not fair.

_Slap!_

"Shit! Fuck you you goddamn assho-Ow!" Dean shouted when another slap landed on his ass, kicking his legs from where they were pinned under one of Novak's and trying to slip off the man's lap.

"If someone is getting fucked then it would be me fucking you into a babbling little mess." Dean stopped moving, heart picking up. Oh.

_Oh._

Would he fuck him? Would he actually fuck him?

Dean swallowed at the image his mine conjured up and shifted one last time before ceasing all movement and praying that Novak didn't feel his rapidly swelling cock. Novak didn't seem to realize anything wrong with what he said, and held Dean tighter, his knee shifting closer down Dean's body and accidentally pressing against his cock. Well fuck. So much for praying. Dean held his breath, and he heard Novak inhale lightly.

"Uhm," Dean licked his lips, feeling his cheeks redden. "I'm sorry. I didn't, er- It's just- You, uh- I'm sorry." _Talk about a one-eighty,_ he winced.

Novak pulled him to his feet and they both looked down at Dean's half-hidden erection. Dean flushed further and stepped back, hands sliding over his crotch. "Dean."

"Sorry," Dean muttered. This was so embarrassing. He shuffled his feet, and flinched when Novak laughed quietly. The man leaned back in his chair and spread his legs. Dean looked up at him just in time to see him tilt his head and smile. "What?"

"Look down, Dean," he said quietly, eyes darkening.

Dean slowly lowered his gaze, eyeing Novak's dark blue tie and buttoned white shirt and... and a huge bulge in his black slacks. Wow. How the fuck did he not feel that? Novak stood slowly and grabbed his hips, pressing him back against the edge of the desk and leaning in closer. Their noses brushed gently but their lips didn't touch. Dean gulped and locked eyes with him, heart pattering harshly in his chest. Novak looked down and took hold of Dean's right hand, lifting it up and placing it on his chest, holding his wrist and keeping him in place. Dean felt his hammering heart, quick little pulses against his hand.

"Oh," he whispered, lips parted. Novak smiled, different from earlier, soft and sweet and hesitant, and leaned in, brushing their partially dry lips together. It sent a jolt through Dean, his heart clenching and skipping before it settled and calmed.

Novak pulled back just a touch and licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing against Dean's bottom lip. Novak placed his feet on either side of Dean's and pressed their bodies together, dropping both their hands. They were chest to chest and although they weren't heart to heart, Dean could feel Novak's heartbeat, in sync with his, and knew the other man felt his too.

"Oh," Novak repeated gently, staring straight into him.

For the first time since Dean had met the professor, he noticed he looked hesitant, almost scared. Dean felt his lips twitch and leaned forward, pressing their lips together again. Novak seemed to calm down at the brush of his lips, and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing their cocks together. Dean groaned and twitched his hips, cock pulsing lightly. "Do that again," he swallowed, breath starting to come in tiny little pants.

"This?" Novak grounded their cocks into each other, and Dean let out a strangled moan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"Uh-huh," he gasped, clenching his ass briefly and shifting with a sharply inhaled breath. "Professor-"

Novak tensed for a second then sighed and swallowed softly, stepping back slowly. "I think you should leave, Dean," he said softly, looking down. He sat in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, jaw clenched tight. Dean blinked, confused.

"But-"

"No buts, Dean. Please leave."

"Why?"

"Please."

Dean frowned and tugged his pants up the rest of the way, cock still erect and ass hurting. He didn't know what he did wrong. He knew a relationship with a professor was wrong, especially since he was still his student, but he didn't mind; not really. He grabbed his bag and slowly walked to the door, glancing back at Novak to see him watching him. Dean hesitated at the door, hand on the handle, and bit his lip. "I'll... see you Friday," he muttered quickly, opening the door and stepping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All comments are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3k words. Lmao. Almost done the story~
> 
> ALSO. THERE IS SOME SWEARING AND NAME-CALLING AND- idk tbh. I probably also fucked up some character stuff in there but I wrote it with little intervals and I'm very forgetful so please forgive me.
> 
> Enjoy but it probably sucks~ :( <3

Dean followed Novak to his office after their Friday class, trailing far behind him and shuffling his feet to make the walk longer. He was scared. Was Novak going to address what had happened on Wednesday or was he going to ignore it and move on like it never occurred? What if he... no. He wouldn't.

Dean breathed deeply and knocked on the ajar door of Novak's office. "Come in," Novak said from within. Dean pushed the door open and stepped inside looking around the familiar room before shutting the door and locking it. He walked to the chair before Novak's desk and dropped his bag to the floor, shifting on his booted feet. "Hello, Dean."

"Hi." Dean eyed his professor's blank face for a moment then sat down and folded his hands in his lap, staring at them. He heard Novak's chair roll across the floor as he stood, and then he heard his soft footfalls coming around the desk. Novak stepped in front of him and sat on the edge of the edge, hands gripping it.

"About Wednesday, Dean," Novak began, hesitant. "I'm sorry."

"It's- what? You're...  _you're_ sorry?" Dean's mouth was open, he knew, and his eyes were wider than usual but he couldn't help it. He stared up at Novak in confusion. Why was he sorry? He had been right to push Dean away.

"Yes. I'm sorry for telling you to leave."

"W-what?" Dean licked his lips, watching Novak's gaze drop to them and follow his tongue. He resisted a smirk. Ah. So he wanted to fuck him now? Casual fuck. Casual fucks were easy but that didn't mean Dean wanted a casual fuck.  _Or deserved one,_ he sighed. "Look-"

"Dean."

"... Yes?"

"My name is Castiel."

"O-Okay?"

"Use it."

"Okay... Castiel." Dean blinked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Good." Nov-  _Castiel_ grinned and pushed himself off the desk, reaching out and grabbing Dean by his shirt, yanking him up and into his arms and between his legs.

"What the fu- Mm-" Dean stumbled into his chest, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and harsh. It still made his cock pulse and harden and throb. He whimpered involuntarily, closing his eyes and relaxing. He pulled back, breathing heavily and blinked his eyes open, staring at Castiel. "Oh."

"First," Castiel murmured, spinning them both around and making Dean sit on the edge of the desk and grinding their cocks together. "I'm going to spank your ass until it's a pretty rosy red and you're a mess of tears." Castiel grinned, pressing their hips harder together. "Then I'm going to fuck you until you can't think straight, and after that I'll teach you abou-"

Dean managed to cut him off with a kiss, definitely not wanting to hear anything more. He moaned quietly when Castiel responded by grabbing his ass and squeezing. "Casti-" He whined as Castiel slid his hands into his pants and boxers and grabbed his ass. That was so not fair. "Fuck-" Castiel pulled away and removed blazer, tossing it onto the desk before beginning to work on his tie. "Leave it- Please..."

He paused, tilting his head and frowning. "Leave it?"

"Want you to fuck me in your suit," he muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up. Dean looked at his shoes, embarrassed. "Please?"

"You..." His professor hissed, stepping forward and kissing him deeply. "Fuck," he murmured against his lips, pushing Dean's flannel off his shoulders and dropping it over his blazer. He slid his hands up Dean's sides, curling his fingers around his abdomen, and digging his nails into his flesh lightly. Dean moaned and pulled his head back, only to dive back in and nip and lick at his jaw and neck, sucking gently occasionally.

Castiel lifted Dean's shirt up and tossed it on the desk, pushing Dean back so his back was flat on the wooden surface. He squirmed lightly, watching him stare down at him with a dark smile. "Uhm, profes- Cas-" Castiel's hand wrapped around his throat, making him freeze. He didn't squeeze or press but he did hold him firmly. Dean swallowed, knowing he could feel it, and pressed his head down on the desk, closing his eyes.

Castiel draped his body over him, free hand reaching into the desk's left drawer and pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom and setting them on the desk. He slid his hand down Dean's body, nails digging lightly into his flesh and leaving pink marks. He grabbed his belt with both hands, pulling his hips up and off the desk for a brief second, then he unbuckled it and slid it from the loops.  "Turn over," he said, clearing his throat and stepping back. Dean obeyed, sitting up and shuffling his feet around and laying his upper body on the desk, hands grabbing at the edge.

Castiel reached under him and undid his pant button and zipper, pulling them and his boxers down his legs to his ankles. The belt slid over his ass, cold and smooth. Castiel kicked at his feet, making him spread them as much as his jeans would allow. He slid his hand over his inner thighs, nails scratching and grabbed his cock, pulling it back and squeezing tightly. It drew a soft moan from him, and made him buck his hips, cock pulsing and leaking. He smeared the drop of precum that appeared at the tip of his cock, thumb pressing down and rubbing firmly.

"Sad to think that this will be gone in a moment," he said, more to himself than Dean. He drew his hand down the length of Dean's cock, and rubbed his balls and perineum and between his cheeks, finger rubbing at his puckered hole. He squirmed, breathing out through his teeth and dropping his head so it hung over the edge of the desk and between his hands. "Prepare yourself." He was actually grateful for the warning.

The first slap of the belt hurt so much more than it usually did, all thanks to that fucking spanking he'd gotten on Wednesday. He breathed through the second and third, but the fourth punched out a soft cry from him and made his eyes water. Castiel didn't pause, he hit him on the same spot. Dean jerked away, another cry escaping him along with a single tear. It hurt like a bitch. Worse than a bitch. "Come on, Cas, have mer- AH!" His toes curled at the sixth thwack of the belt because it was  _with the fucking metal buckle._  He whimpered softly, thighs trembling. "Please..."

"Almost halfway done," Castiel said easily from behind him, voice almost completely devoid of emotion. "You can take it."

_That wasn't fucking reassuring, dick._ Dean barely stopped himself from saying that allowed, knowing it would probably earn him more hits. He shuddered when two more hard spanks came down on his sore ass, quick and cruel. Dean felt a thrum ring through him and suddenly realized his cock was still mostly hard and throbbing between his legs and against the desk. He discreetly tried to close his thighs but failed in being subtle when another hit came down and Castiel seemed to realized what he was doing.

His hand grabbed his cock, squeezing the base of his cock and balls roughly and pulling hard, his other hand coming down to press against his lower back. Dean whined, tugging his hips away but only succeeding in making it more painful. "Still hard, are you?" Castiel said, laughing softly. The belt dragged over the tip of his leaking cock, making more precum leak from him. "Cute." The belt went down his cock, rubbing gently.

A sharp hit came down on his unprotected balls, making him choke and jerk his hips roughly, probably bruising them thanks to the desk. "No, no, no, please- Please don't," he barely managed to gasp out, tears slipping down his cheeks. He could probably stop him but he had his most sacred parts in his fucking fist and that was so not okay. He was shamefully still hard, even with that hit, and it was... well, shameful. "Please have mercy! Don't-"

"Have mercy? Oh, Dean," Castiel tsked, letting out a soft chuckle that sounded sadistic and terrifying. "Oh silly, Dean, there's no such thing as mercy in my world." As he said that, he landed a particularly hard across his thighs, and because they were pulled back, his balls. "Was that merciful enough for you? No? How about this?" The belt came down over his ass crack and balls and probably Castiel's hand and forced a partial scream from him, only cut off when he slammed his fist into his mouth and put his index and middle fingers. Tears spilled down his cheeks, down his neck and onto the floor, and Castiel huffed with amusement. "Was that better?" He crooned from behind him, tongue suddenly appearing and licking his balls gently, teasingly.

Dean moaned in response, knees buckling and forcing him to carry his weight with only his upper body. The belt fell to the floor with a clatter and Castiel let go of his cock, letting it thump against the desk - which really fucking hurt. He grabbed his throbbing ass, squeezing his cheeks and spreading them and his tongue licked over his clenching hole. Dean removed his hand from his mouth and grabbed the desk again, groaning softly and rocking back against him. "Good, good, g- Good-" he slurred, closing his eyes and trying to breath.

Castiel lapped at his hole, making lewd noises as he sucked and licked, wetting it thoroughly before blowing cool air and making him shudder and mewl quietly. He bit his inner cheek, licking over the spot, then let go of his ass. He reached over and took the bottle of lube, opening it with a click and squirting some out with a soft sound. His dry hand spread his cheeks and his finger rubbed over his wet hole, making it slick and smooth. His tongue appeared next to it, both gently but probing. The tip of his finger slipped inside, his tongue flicking lightly over the ring of muscles while the finger deftly slid in and out, pushing further and further into his hole. "Fuck me- Fuck me- Please fuck me."

"In a moment," Castiel muttered, stubble scratching over his sensitive right cheek. Dean moaned, clenching around his finger. "You're so tight," he groaned, muttering a curse right after.

"Don't care. Fuck me now. I wanna feel you- fuck!" He whimpered, rocking back on his finger as it nudged against his prostate, rubbing gently. He reached behind him and grabbed his wrist, turning his head and blinking blearily at him. "Please, professor," he bit his lip, blinking innocently at him.

Castiel _growled_ and just about ripped his finger out of him, reaching for his zipper and unbuttoning his boxers and pulling his hard cock out, and fuck was it a nice cock, long and thick and red. Castiel pressed him back onto the desk, forcing his shoulders into the hard wood, and lined himself up with Dean, pressing in lightly. He didn't go slow but he didn't exactly rush it. He eased into him, not stopping until his clothed hips were flush against Dean's bare ass. He grabbed his hair, pulling him up and forcing his head closer. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Dean," he muttered, biting his cartilage. "You won't be able to walk out of this room."

"Pretty please?" Dean rasped back, clenching and unclenching around him. His ass hurt from the quick way he'd entered him, without prep, but it wasn't bad and to be honest, he kind of liked the burn. He rocked his hips, shuddering when he felt the entirety of Castiel's cock inside him. The man let go of his hair and rubbed the abused section of scalp, pushing him back down onto the desk. He rocked his hips, sliding out of him an inch and then back in, gaining another inch every thrust.

His ass stung with each press of his smooth pants but they were also cool, so it wasn't too bad. He slowly fucked into him, gaining speed with each thrust, working him open properly. His cock ghosted over Dean's prostate with each thrust, making tiny little gasps escape him. A hand slid under his neck and wrapped around his throat, not squeezing but holding tightly, noticeably. It was then that his hips picked up their pace, moving all the way back until only the tip of his cock was inside of him and then slamming straight in and rubbing over his prostate.

"God, yes," Dean moaned, legs shaking and unable to hold him. "Just like that-" he choked, breathing heavy and shaky.

"Little slut for cock, aren't you?" Castiel cooed, leaning down and pressing him into the desk, still pounding into him, continuously reigniting the sting in his ass.

"Yeah, yeah, little slut," he muttered, rocking his hips back and meeting Castiel's thrusts. "Filthy little slut."

Castiel slammed into him and didn't move, pressing his hips into the table and forcing him to keep still too. He sucked softly on Dean's sweaty neck then pressed his lips against Dean's right ear, tongue darting out to lick the shell momentarily. "Beg."

"Please?"

"Not good enough, whore," he chuckled, dark and taunting. His hand tightened around Dean's neck, making him gasp and tense. "'Please?' does not constitute as begging. I will tell you one more time.  _Beg._ "

"Please! Please fuck me. Fuck me hard. I'm a dirty little slut for-" he whined when he pulled out and slammed back in. "Fuck me, fuck me, Oh God, yes, yes, fuck-k me-" Dean reached down his body and tried to lift his hips to get to his cock, but his hand was grabbed and his hips pressed down by Castiel's.

The professor made him grab the edge of the desk again, and pushed his fingers between Dean's, lacing them and forcing him to keep his hands on the desk, and he repeated it to his other hand. "You're going to come on my cock, Dean, and if you can't, well," he said, breath heavy. " _Sucks to be you._ "

"Fu-ck you," he muttered.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean did _not_ whimper at the name. "I'm fucking you." Castiel hummed, sounding pleased about something. He slowed, lower body lifting away from Dean."Well, now that you're warmed up, I can begin the actual fucking."

"Tech-nic-ally, you're actu-ally fuck-shit-ing me."

"Very true, but," Castiel pulled out and snapped his hips forward so hard the desk shook and moved and Dean cried out. "That means you don't want that. I'm alright with that. I mean, if you are."

"Please do that agai- oh, fuckkk yes, than-k you, Cagh," Dean's toes curled and his cock leaked heavily onto the side of the desk, his leg and probably the floor, and he moaned little unintelligible words. Castiel laughed behind him, licking his sweaty neck before biting the flesh at the nape of his neck. 

"So I'm assuming... you do want that?"

"Yugh su-"

"Shh," Castiel stopped and angled his hips differently, then fucked into him, slamming his prostate with each thrust and rattling the desk hard enough it screeched over the floor and moved. "You're pretty tight for a slut."

"Furzt, furst," he tried to say, but it was slurred.

"First?" He slowed his hips. "I'm your first?" He sounded shocked and confused.

"Yah... I mean," Dean cleared his throat. "If only dicks connected to people count."

"I'm pretty sure that's how it works," Castiel said quietly, slick little sounds registering in Dean's ears.

"Grats, you took my virginity," Dean felt his face warm with something that wasn't the flush of sex, probably embarrassment. "Want a medal?"

"Shut your sassy fucking mouth," Castiel growled, slamming his prostate mercilessly three times in a row, earning tiny mewls from Dean. "You're a slut for toys, aren't you? Bet I wasn't even half as big as one of the ones you use."

"Honestly," he gasped, shuddering. "You're bigger."

"Good to know, my filthy little slut," he snorted. "Good to know."

Dean clenched around him, feeling his orgasm approaching. He didn't know if Castiel was close but he really didn't care... much. "Harder, please," he whispered, throat dry. Castiel obliged, pounding him harder and forcing him into the desk so hard, his hips pulsed as hard as his cock was. "Profezzurrr," he moaned lowly, slurring the word.

"Come, you fucking slut," Castiel's lips attached to his neck, sucking hard and no doubt making a mark. Dean closed his eyes and cried out and jerked his hips into the desk, moving it, and came on his leg and the wood, squeezing his ass and gasping. He heard Castiel grunt and then felt thick come coat his insides, hips pressing into his ass. Neither moved for several seconds, both trying to catch their breaths, but then Castiel slowly lifted up off of him and leaned back, pausing halfway up.

"Whut?"

"I forgot the condom," Castiel said, sounding like he was frowning.

"Oops," Dean laughed, forcing himself up and glancing at the packet beside him.

"Oops indeed." Castiel huffed, sliding out of him slowly and stepping back, leaving him cold.

He cleaned his cock off quickly then wiped away extra lube and some come that he could feel dribbling out of him, then cleaned his leg and the desk. He helped Dean up and gently redressed him, taking care as he put his clothes back on. They cleaned their hands with sanitizer because they didn't really have anything else, and then Castiel grabbed Dean's bag, setting it on the desk. He put away the unused condom and the bottle of lube and threw his blazer onto the chair Dean usually used. He tugged Dean around the desk and sat down in his chair, pulling him into his lap. Dean kicked off his boots and happily curled up in his lap, burying his face in Castiel's sweaty neck.

"Time to learn abou-"

Dean slammed his hand over Castiel's mouth, muttering quietly, "Shut the fuck up and let me sleep..."

He removed Dean's hand. "Excuse me?"

" _P_ _lease_ shut the fuck up and let me sleep?"

"Dean."

"Please?"

"Fine."

"Thank you," he kissed his neck and yawned, eyes fluttering shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~ All comments are welcomed and appreciated~ <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Enjoy, mi lavs. <3

It was eight weeks later that found Dean once more bent over Cas's desk and taking the belt like... okay, he was so **not** taking this like a man. He was crying and squirming and begging the merciless bastard to stop, but of course he didn't. He continued to evenly whip Dean, turning his ass bright red and making it throb with pain.

"Casss," he whined, griping the edge of the desk.

"Yes, sweetie?" he asked from behind him, slightly out of breath. He paused, stepping closer and pressing up right against Dean's sore ass and thighs. He groaned in pain and tried not to wriggle away. "Something wrong?"

"I-" he pouted, turning and glaring back at him with teary eyes. "I hate you."

"I love you too, naughty boy," he chuckled, shifting his hips and making his pants rub against Dean's ass. He jerked his hips into the desk, cursing when it dug into his flesh.

"I fucking hate you so much," Dean growled, clenching his jaw.

Cas smiled with closed lips and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, tongue darting out and licking a tear that slid from the corner of his eye. "It's your own fault."

"I wasn't even flirting with her!" Dean said, giving his boyfriend his best puppy dog look. "Please, Cas. I'm sorry."

"If you weren't flirting with her then why are you apologetic?"

"Cas," Dean groaned again, dropping his head onto the desk. "Please."

"I don't know," Cas huffed, stepping back and humming. "Your ass is a pretty red already but I'm not so sure you learned your lesson yet."

"I'm sorry, Cas. I'm really,  _really_ , sorry."

Cas clucked his tongue. "Get up," he ordered, dropping the belt onto the table and plopping down in his desk chair. "Stand in the corner." Dean grudgingly pushed himself off the desk and waddled over to the corner, his jeans around his knees.

"I hate you."

"If you touch your ass, I'll beat your cock with the belt as punishment."

"I fucking hate you," he repeated, breathing heavily with pain and anger.

Cas tried to hide a giggle but he heard it, he fucking heard it. He turned and glared at the man, flipping him the finger. "So naughty, sweetie. Do I need to spank you all over again?" Cas asked innocently, grinning at him widely and throwing in a wink when he sneered back.

"I. Fucking. Hate. You. Cazziel. Janes. Nutak." Cas snorted loudly at the name and Dean turned away, crossing his arms over his chest and wiping at his wet face, glaring at the wall.

He stood there for more than twenty minutes, his legs tired and his backside throbbing, tears drying on his face.. Cas shuffled behind him, typing loudly and scribbling on paper occasionally; ignoring him. He called him over after a while and Dean walked to him, stopping beside his legs and watching as he pushed his chair back.

"Lay over the desk again," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle. He flicked it open and squirted out a good amount of the cream, turning to Dean and rubbing liberal amount over his ass and thighs. Dean relaxed slightly and stood when he was done, carefully pulling his boxers and pants up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting in Cas's lap and nuzzling his neck. "I'm sorry, Cas. I love you."

"I know."

"Don't Han Solo me," Dean huffed.

"Shut up and rest," Cas muttered, lips brushing his forehead as he slid closer to the desk and started typing again.

"... I still hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this story~ All comments are welcomed and appreciated~ <3
> 
> _Love you guys._


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